Marie-Therese, Child of Terror: The Fate of Marie Antoinette's Daughter

by Susan Nagel

  On November 2, 1807, Louis XVIII, the Duc d’Angoulême and the Duc de Berry landed at Great Yarmouth, where they were met by the young Duc d’Orléans and the Prince de Condé. They discovered that on learning of his cousins’ difficult situation, d’Orléans had approached his good friend the Prince of Wales – ‘Prinny’ – and received permission for the French royal family to disembark at Great Yarmouth. Despite their traveling aliases, they were greeted warmly by the local townspeople who shouted: ‘It’s the King of France! It is Louis XVIII, brother of Louis XVI.’ Louis stated that he was genuinely touched by their homage and generosity. He had a very good feeling about his prospects in England, and after touring the English countryside and being fêted by the English aristocracy, he felt persuaded that his wife and niece ought to join him in England.

  In late spring of 1808, the Duc d’Angoulême boarded a ship for Libau, not far from Mitau, to escort his wife and Marie Josephine to England. On a bright, sunny day in July, they set sail. Marie-Thérèse, a very ill Marie Joséphine, who was suffering from dropsy, and the Duc d’Angoulême arrived at Gosfield Hall in Essex on August 24.

  In April of the following year the French court in exile relocated to Hartwell House in Buckinghamshire. Before their departure from Gos-field Hall, the Bourbons cooperated on a tribute to their benefactor, the Marquis of Buckingham. The French royal family erected a round, stone altar at Gosfield, which was then placed in the renamed ‘Bourbon Tower’ in the grounds of Stowe House, Buckinghamshire. Around the tower they planted five oak trees, one for each of them, and, with the help of one of the men in service to the Comte d’Artois, the royal Bourbons in exile compiled a collection of flowery speeches which they placed with their portraits and locks of their hair into a beautifully decorated blue and gold volume. This book is now in the British Library.1

  Chapter XVIII

  Country Life

  Hartwell house had, since the sixteenth century, been the home of the Hampden and Lee families, from whom the American General Robert E. Lee was descended. Louis rented the place for a mere £500 per annum, a favorable price arranged by his new friend, the Marquis of Buckingham. The house boasted an impressive entrance hall where carved oak figures of Hercules, the Furies and knights in armor stood sentry on either side of the grand stairwell. Queen Marie Joséphine was so terrified by the shadows formed by the statues that she had them all removed to the basement. Portraits of the Lee family by Vandyke, Reynolds and other notable artists hung on paneled walls, and the house contained the requisite ballroom and beautiful marble fireplaces. Located only forty miles northwest of London, Hartwell afforded Louis easy access to the capital, and proved a pleasant home for the French courtiers, who arrived in groups until their number swelled to over two hundred within a few months. Out of these, 140 émigrés lived in the house and in its extensive grounds. Outbuildings were used as shops and large chambers were divided into smaller apartments. There were reports of courtiers farming livestock and chickens everywhere, even on the rooftops. Many of these émigrés would leave behind them messages in French, carved on the beech trees in the grounds.

  Marie-Thérèse was now surrounded by relatives: not only her husband and her uncle, the King, but also her father-in-law, a brother-in-law, and cousins including the Prince de Condé and the Orléans family – whom she still would not receive. Family dynamics began to change considerably.

  For one thing, her father-in-law, the Comte d’Artois, remained in London on South Audley Street, enjoying the pleasures of gaming clubs, the theater and dinner parties. He encouraged his son and daughter-in-law to visit him often, which they did. In addition to attending social events, they also appeared together at the Church of St Louis, the chapel of the French émigrés on Little George Street, where a special chair, meant to symbolize a throne, had been installed for Louis XVIII, and a bench placed nearby for the rest of the royal family. The English were equally hungry to see the daughter of the martyred King, who had just turned thirty. The memoirs of both Hüe and Cléry, which had been published in London, had elicited such great sympathy for the Orphan of the Temple that once again another public had, sight unseen, predetermined her to be saintly. Marie-Thérèse was received in London as a visiting deity. The Times, when referring to ‘Her Royal Highness, the daughter of the unfortunate Louis XVI’, recorded almost every word she uttered in public and, on April 25, 1814, declared that ‘every voice was exerted to announce the esteem and respect generally felt for the amiable daughter of Louis XVI’.

  When, in May 1809, Archduke Karl defeated Napoleon in the battle of Aspern – the Emperor’s first personal defeat in over a decade – and his name was on everybody’s lips, it was noted that Marie-Thérèse appeared more red-eyed than usual. People whispered that she was unhappy. In contrast to the Austrian Archduke’s growing reputation as an energetic, brilliant figure, the Duc d’Angoulême, like Marie-Thérèse’s own late father, was reserved, liked to hunt, and seemed, to many, decidedly taciturn. Her uncle, the King, had acknowledged that she was definitely the smarter of the pair. It was the Comte d’Artois, who had suffered little since the Revolution, who knew how to lavish gaiety on his daughter-in-law. And, very much like her mother, Marie-Thérèse succumbed to d’Artois’s natural charm.

  Then there was the matter of her brother-in-law, the Duc de Berry, the renegade young Prince who had fought so valiantly alongside the Prince de Condé for the Bourbon cause. He was very much like his father and many people openly remarked that Marie-Thérèse had, sadly, married the wrong brother. Despite de Berry’s reputation as a womanizer and his seeming disregard for dynasty, Marie-Thérèse adored her brother-in-law. She so enjoyed de Berry’s company that she forgave him his many indiscretions. He had been more regular in his correspondence with her in Vienna than had her own then fiancé and they had developed a close but solidly platonic relationship.

  For years, Louis and the Comte d’Artois had made attempts to marry the Duc de Berry to a number of European princesses, all of whom seemed more than delighted with the captivating Bourbon Prince. In 1802, he was sent off to Sicily to meet and marry one of Queen Maria Carolina’s daughters, but he instead seduced two of them and left in disgrace, having married neither. As time marched on, Bourbons in exile – without funds, their own castles or a country to rule – were increasingly considered bad matches. De Berry seemed unperturbed by the slights and, when the entire royal family arrived at Gosfield Park in 1808, and the Marquis of Buckingham let it be known that he would be happy to mingle Bourbon blood with that of his twenty-one-year-old daughter, Lady Mary Gren-ville, Berry seemed a willing conspirator. Buckingham gave a wild party at Stowe House during which Lady Mary set out to hook de Berry. Although the Bourbon Prince participated in the dancing, drinking and flirting, he departed without a marriage contract. According to Lady Mary’s cousins, she was bereft, and the subject was dropped. Two years earlier, de Berry had entered into what some have called a morganatic marriage with an English commoner named Amy Brown. Although no documents have ever been found that verified a wedding, by 1809, they had had two daughters, Charlotte and Louise.

  D’Angoulême was far less amusing and easygoing than his brother. He could be pompous and demanding and for a long time he had expressed his dislike for King Louis XVIII’s long-time advisor, and some believed, lover, the Duc d’Avaray. Once settled at Hartwell, tensions between d’Angoulême and d’Avaray came to a head. When a public rupture occurred between the two men, d’Angoulême called for the royal favorite to be dismissed. Careful to appease the husband of the woman who had come to symbolize his dynasty, the woman he called ‘our angel’ and ‘my charming star’, Louis was forced to send his favorite away. To save face, d’Avaray publicly announced that he needed to live elsewhere for his health. With d’Angoulême’s blessing, Louis replaced d’Avaray with the Duc de Blacas. Although Marie-Thérèse had not been involved in the contretemps, the mere fact that her husband might bring his complaints to his wife made others realize they woul
d have to tread carefully around the Duc d’Angoulême in future.

  Life at Hartwell suited Marie-Thérèse. As Queen Marie Joséphine remained very ill with dropsy, it was, as in Mitau, Marie-Thérèse who became lady of the house. She, her husband and her uncle adopted the rhythms and patterns of English country living. Louis, Marie-Thérèse and d’Angoulême rose early, went to church, planted and tended vegetable and flower gardens and read books in the library. It was a very tranquil life, and, for the first time in years, Marie-Thérèse felt safe. At 10.30 in the morning, the Duc and Duchesse d’Angoulême would appear together in a salon to greet guests who would then join them for lunch. At 11 a.m. the King would be announced, a door would open, the King would enter, walk toward his niece and kiss her hand as she curtsied. They would then all head into the dining room where the table was usually set for about ten people. The meal would not be lavish, the ladies would re-wrap their napkins in ribbon to save on laundering expenses, and in half an hour, it would be over. For the rest of the day, until about 5 p.m., all of the family and their friends would do whatever they pleased. The King would grant audiences, or take a mid-afternoon promenade flanked by two gardes du corps. Marie-Thérèse frequently went horseback riding on one of only two horses in their stable into the nearby town of Aylesbury to visit a cluster of French émigrés, among them Jean René Asseline, the Bishop of Boulogne, who had relocated there to be near their King. She also enjoyed the company of her friend, Mademoiselle de Choisy, who had become the Vicomtesse d’Agoult, and the Marquise de Sérent.

  At 5 p.m., they all would reconvene in a room that had previously been used as a library. The King would enter, the Duchesse d’Angoulême would follow, and soup would be served. After dinner, coffee would be served in another room. Marie-Thérèse liked playing billiards and would often pair up with her friend’s husband, the Vicomte d’Agoult, against her husband and another player, often the Comte, later Duc, de Damas. They would play for about an hour at which time Marie-Thérèse would invite those who wished to join her to her own apartments. The ladies would sit to her left; they would chat and do needlework. The gentlemen would sit in chairs facing her. At 11.30, she would rise, say goodnight, and everyone would disperse until the following morning. For those visitors who had either experienced or read about the breathtaking spectacles at Versailles, the entertainment at Hartwell was exceedingly simple by comparison. Although judged dull by many, life at Hartwell was serene, and for Marie-Thérèse in particular, a welcome respite.

  When Marie-Thérèse had lived at the Hofburg as a seventeen-year-old, she had not only made lasting friends with girls her own age, but she had also delighted in Franz II’s young and growing family. His eldest daughter, Maria Louisa, was just four years old when Marie-Thérèse arrived in Vienna, and she was an adorable little girl with whom Marie-Thérèse would play games and read books. On March 11, 1810, eighteen-year-old Archduchess Maria Louisa was married by proxy to Napoleon Bonaparte. Napoleon, whose real love, Josephine de Beau-harnais, was no longer able to have children, had decided that he needed a royal heir, so he had negotiated with the Habsburg King for the hand of the beautiful young Maria Louisa.

  Standing in for the groom in the Hofburg chapel was Archduke Karl, the man intended by his brother to marry Marie-Thérèse. The choice of Karl, the heroic battlefield champion, as Napoleon’s representative caused horror in all of the royal houses of Europe, and occasioned many to go into mourning. Once the figure of victory, he now loomed in the minds of all of Europe as the tragic symbol of defeat, and Maria Louisa as its saddest victim. Both Marie-Thérèse and King Louis XVIII were visibly depressed by news of the marriage, because of its significance for the future of the Bourbons; but in Marie-Thérèse it also engendered a very personal sadness. Maria Louisa, like herself, had been obliged to sacrifice any chance of personal happiness for her country; the difference, as Marie-Thérèse well knew, was that whereas she had had a choice, Maria Louisa most certainly had not.

  Not long after the wedding of Maria Louisa to ‘the Criminal’, Marie-Thérèse suffered another two very painful losses. In late June, news arrived that Comte Fersen had been murdered. Fersen, who had continued to investigate reports on the possibility that Marie-Thérèse’s brother was alive and well in America, had visited her in England, and had gently informed Marie-Thérèse that he would pursue the stories in person on her behalf. He never made it to America. Upon his return to Sweden, he was assassinated by political enemies. More sad and unexpected news came in late July, when Marie-Thérèse learned that her friend and benefactress, the magnificent Queen Louise of Prussia, had died at the age of thirty-four in Strelitz while visiting her father. The valiant Queen, who, even when pregnant and suffering from typhus, had traveled with Prussian troops and with her husband to Memel, Tilsit, and St Petersburg on behalf of her people, had grown fragile and eventually died in her husband’s arms.

  The death of Queen Louise prompted her sister, Charlotte, Duchess of Hildburghausen, to immediately arrange for Vavel de Versay and his mysterious young companion to move from Radefeld House, in town, to the outskirts where they would reside in the shuttered and forbidding Castle Eishausen. The castle’s system of underground tunnels and caves allowed for secret access to and from the adjacent forests; strict measures were put in place to ensure the couple’s complete seclusion, and, in particular, to ensure that the identity of the young aristocratic woman remained concealed.

  The couple perfected an unusual routine. They retired very early and began their day at about 3 a.m., before the locals could detect activity in the grounds. Herr Scharre continued as the couple’s manservant. Johanna Schmidt was now required to accompany the ‘Dark Countess’ on her morning walks. Each day, Frau Schmidt would arrive at the castle, turn her back to the door and when she heard the Dark Countess leave the house, she would proceed to the garden and open the gate without turning around to see the woman’s face. Frau Schmidt observed that the Count, who always watched from a window, pistol in hand, would wait for the woman to signal with her handkerchief that she was ready to return home. He would then permit his charge back into the house, the whole time Frau Schmidt never having seen the mysterious woman. ‘De Versay’ and his younger companion were so reclusive that local people speculated as to whether the pair was hiding out to protect the woman, or, if it was, in fact, the Dark Count who was in need of anonymity owing to some nefarious act he may have committed.

  Johanna Weber, the couple’s cook, had been moved into the castle and was rarely permitted to leave the premises. Provisions were sent to the castle door. The townspeople noticed that the couple received no less than the finest of everything. There was a piano delivered for the woman to play. French wines arrived from Frankfurt, as did clothing, designed in Paris. Money arrived, it was claimed, from Holland and Paris. Vegetables arrived from Bamberg in Bavaria. Herr Scharre received frequent communiqués from Charlotte, Duchess of Hildburghausen, herself. Many years later, after she no longer worked for the mysterious couple, Johanna Weber would tell others that the house was filled with expensive candles, that the mysterious woman’s room contained many items embossed with fleur-de-lys, and that from the rare occasions she was able to see the face of her mistress, she had concluded that the mysterious woman was definitely the daughter of Marie Antoinette.

  In England, another Queen of France had died. On November 13, Marie Joséphine, aged fifty-seven, succumbed to her long battle with dropsy. Her illness had softened her, and acknowledging the kind treatment that Marie-Thérèse, in her usual role of nurse, had lavished upon her aunt, the Queen, shortly before dying, told Marie-Thérèse and Louis-Antoine that she had always thought of them both as her own children. The funeral service for the Queen in exile took place in London’s Church of St Louis, which, according to The Times, was ‘hung with black and lighted with wax’. Her body was then moved to Westminster Abbey, and, ultimately, to Cagliari, Italy. Her husband, surprisingly grief-stricken, did not attend his wife’s funeral; but Na
poleon sent his spies, ordering them to write down every person’s name who attended the ceremony so that they could be placed on the Emperor’s ‘enemy list’.

  Ten days after Marie Joséphine was buried, the Prince of Wales received a note from the Marquis of Wellesley stating that King Gustavus IV Adolphus of Sweden, who had been forced from the throne by a coup d’ état, had arrived in England. Traveling under the name the ‘Comte de Gottorp’, Gustavus had headed first, not to meet the English King, who was gravely ill, but to Hartwell, where he knew that he would be warmly welcomed and given shelter.

  Another visitor to Hartwell was Madame de Staël. De Staël, long banished from France for her outspoken criticism of what she had correctly predicted were Napoleon’s imperial ambitions, had had a series of adulterous affairs with various political radicals including Talleyrand, Louis de Narbonne, Benjamin Constant, and Comte Adolph-Louis Ribbing – the man believed to have been the mastermind behind the assassination of the Swedish King, Gustav III. She had come to Hartwell, she claimed, to pay homage to her King. However, her real motive was to ask Louis XVIII to promise to return to her a great deal of money that she believed the French government had owed her father. Louis agreed. In an ironic twist, it would be these monies that de Staël, who claimed sympathy for republican principles, would use to engineer the marriage of her daughter, Albertine, fathered by the fervent anti-royalist, Benjamin Contstant, to the Duc de Broglie, a member of one of the grandest families of courtiers of the ancien régime.